


Three Good Things

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best thing about Shepard's cabin wasn't installed by Cerberus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Good Things

In Claire Shepard’s opinion, there were only two good things about her cabin on the Normandy. The first was the shower, completely private with a high pressure tap, again proving Joker’s claim that private industries knew more about comfort than the military. Sometimes you just needed to get in the shower, lean against the wall, and let water roll down your body for a good twenty minutes before feeling as if you could face yourself. When the hot water ran out halfway through it was usually enough to completely ruin your day, so having a shower that kept the pressure and heat high until she twisted off the taps was vital.

The second good thing about that cabin wasn’t anything obvious. The fishtank was nothing but an annoying, bubbling nightlight, and Claire’s feelings about the big, open skylight above her bed couldn’t be shared in polite company. The mounts for the model spaceships were cute and functional, but unnecessary in the long run. It certainly wasn’t the sound system; no matter how many stations Claire had EDI download, it was never anything she wanted to listen to.

The second good thing about Claire’s cabin wasn’t something that Cerberus installed, or that the Alliance upgraded when they got the Normandy back. It was that sometimes, when Claire came out of the shower, Garrus Vakarian was laying in her bed.

He was there now, half undressed, all angles and sharp edges, propped up on her pillows like he belonged. Though she knew he knew his body better than she ever would, she always imagined it was difficult to get a turian fully undressed, what with the keel and the cowl, not to mention the bone spurs. She asked him once how long it took him to get ready. Laughing, he replied _l_ _onger than you, but not as long as Kaidan._

“Exciting bedtime reading?” she asked, inclining her head towards his datapad as she crossed the room, towel wrapped around her waist, not bothering to cover her breasts due to what Garrus called her “peculiar sense of modesty.”

“More reports from the front lines.” Without bothering to turn it off, he tossed the datapad onto the nightstand, lifting a hand to rub his temple with his knuckles. “The news is about as good as you’d expect. The Krogan are taking off some of the pressure, but the generals still don’t trust them."

“Well, they’ve got reason not to.” Claire finished digging around in a poorly organized drawer and stepped into a pair of pink, polka-dotted underwear. She threw the towel over her shoulders and scrubbed them off, sopping up the last bit of moisture. “Is Victus getting through to them, at least?”

“Seems like it. Casualties are down, but things could be better.”

Claire left the towel on top of the drawers as she crossed the small room, kneeling on the edge of the bed to crawl over Garrus. He closed his eyes, the plates on his forehead that Claire insisted on calling his eyebrows relaxing. A turian smile, she said, and he never disagreed.

“Things could be a hell of a lot better,” he said again, and rested his hand on her back. “Could be worse though.”

“Such an optimist.” Her voice was always low when she teased, rumbly and stuck deep in her chest, and that tone had become his favorite early on. “Were you thinking that it could be like Earth?”

“No, I was thinking that I could be dozing off in the main battery again, instead of here.”

Claire laughed, smiled, and pressed her face to his shoulder so all he could see was the orange-red cybernetic glowing of her scars.

“They’re getting worse, you know.”

“The attacks?”

“Your scars.” He ran one finger across the jagged edged slices on her cheek. “Did Cerberus build you out of military surplus, or did they just not anticipate the sort of stress you’d put on those implants?”

Claire shrugged. “Maybe when this is all over I’ll find a plastic surgeon. Hey, do you think I ought to get an eyelid crease too?” Claire rubbed the upper lid of one eye. “All the beauty magazines back in Chinatown advertised eyelid surgery,” she explained.

“I think you’re beautiful just the way you are. Scars and all.”

“Ooh, smooth,” Claire said, laughing, pressing a kiss to his scarred cheek. “You’ve been watching those romance vids again, haven’t you?” She reached a hand to rub the warm, softer skin of his neck, dragging her nails lightly across it.

“Mmm, not this time.” He tilted his head to the side, eyes closed, a long sigh escaping as she pressed her nails harder.

“You like that?”

“Maybe.”

“I had a cat on Earth that loved having his neck scratched,” Claire said, her voice dipping into that rumbly teasing space again.

“That’s not a flattering comparison--mmm.”

“But it’s true.” She added her other hand now, scratching the opposite side of his neck, laughing soft and kind when he tilted his head back with a pleased groan. “I’m going to have to tell someone that the fastest way to subdue a turian is to scratch their chin.”

“You are not.”

“Can you imagine how fast the first contact war would have been over if we only knew this?” Claire ran her nails up, scratching just under his chin now. “Just imagine an entire battlefield of turians on their back, purring.”

“We don’t purr, and why do you think we have the cowl?” Garrus asked, gently wrapping his hand around Claire’s wrist to stop her. “Makes it harder to get at our necks.”

“You know what I love about you, Garrus?” Claire asked, folding her arms over his chest and resting her head on them. He closed his eyes, then kissed the top of her head.

“What’s that?”

“I know you well enough to know when you’re completely full of shit.”

“Is that so?” He laughed, a short bark and a flap of the mandibles, nothing more, before stroking her fuzzy head. “You don’t believe me about the cowl, huh?”

“No, and I know damn well how to make you purr.”

“You _do_ know that turians don’t actually blush, right?”

“Have you ever known me to give up?” Claire rolled onto her back, gave him a tug, and as he climbed over her, dropping his head to kiss her neck, she was eminently thankful for the other good thing about her cabin--the locking door.


End file.
